Lorenzo Rossi, the most feared Mafia boss in the city, pointed a gun straight at my head while I cradled his dying baby against my bare chest. He was certain I had crossed him—until his son finally swallowed after weeks of refusing every feeding, and I told Lorenzo the unthinkable: someone inside his own mansion might have been starving the child on purpose.

The morning sun broke over the Chicago skyline, casting a warm, golden light across the charred, smoking ruins of the eastern wing.

Down in the subterranean holding cells, the air was cold, damp, and smelled of stale blood and burnt cordite.

I stood in the shadows beside Marcus, holding little Leo in a soft blue blanket, while Lorenzo stood directly in front of a steel chair bolted to the concrete floor.

Tied securely to the chair was a man who looked utterly broken.

It wasn't Elena. It was Victor Vance—Lorenzo’s own chief of internal security, the man who had managed the estate’s access codes for over a decade. His face was bruised, his expensive suit ruined, and his breathing came in ragged, painful gasps.

"You," Lorenzo said, his voice a low, lethal rumble that echoed off the damp concrete walls. "Ten years, Victor. I trusted you with the security of my family, my home, and my son."

Victor let out a bitter, bloodied laugh, spitting a mouthful of crimson onto the stone floor. "You think you rule this city, Lorenzo? You think you're untouchable? Moretti offered me a ten-million-dollar buyout and safe passage to Zurich. Why wouldn't I take it? You've gone soft. A baby—and a maid—have turned the great Rossi into a domestic house pet."

Before Victor could finish his sentence, Lorenzo moved with terrifying, blinding speed.

He didn't pull a gun. He grabbed Victor by the lapels of his ruined suit, hauling him out of the chair with sheer brute force, slamming him back against the concrete wall with a sickening thud.

"You gave Moretti the access codes to the eastern gate," Lorenzo whispered, his voice vibrating with a rage so intense it made the air feel electrified. "You tried to burn my home to the ground. And you tried to kill my son."

"Do it, then!" Victor screamed defiantly. "Kill me! Moretti's men are already rallying! You haven't won anything!"

Lorenzo stared at him with absolute, freezing contempt. Then he slowly let go, letting Victor slump back into the chair like a broken doll.

"Kill you?" Lorenzo said coldly, wiping his hands with a white handkerchief. "Death is too easy for a traitor, Victor. You’re going to spend the rest of your natural life in a maximum-security black site underneath Lake Michigan, where you will never see the sun, never hear a human voice, and never know peace."

Lorenzo signaled to two enforcers. "Take him away."

As Victor was dragged kicking and screaming down the dark corridor, Lorenzo turned around, walking slowly back toward where Marcus, Leo, and I stood waiting.

The harsh prison lights caught the sharp, striking lines of his face. He stopped in front of me, his dark eyes softening instantly as he looked down at his son, then up at me.

"It's over," Lorenzo said quietly, his voice filled with a profound, unshakeable calm. "The mole is gone. Moretti’s primary assets have been frozen or seized. There is no one left between us and peace."

I looked up at him, a radiant smile breaking through my tears.

"Are we finally safe?" I whispered.